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Our Hearts are Simmering

March 21, 2021 by Bethany McMillon

*_{Photo by Jonathan Pielmayer on Unsplash}*

I stand at the stove, tired but mind-racing. Just a few days after the world has shut down, in an attempt to keep with family traditions, I pour clover shaped, green tinted, pasta into a pot of milk and chicken stock. The quick, one-pot, easy chicken alfredo meal requires no thought, as my mind has been occupied with pivoting quickly to distance learning at school and finding toilet paper and how we will make the next few ~~weeks~~ months work. I turn my back for just a MOMENT to grab something from the refrigerator, then race back to the stove. Milky, cheesy goo boils over and immediately forms a crust across the stovetop. I holler a stream of irritable phrases and turn my attention to saving the boiled over dinner.

In the aftermath of this heat, I spend an hour scrubbing the stovetop and wishing I’d paid more attention or used a bigger pot or chosen a different dinner menu. Boiling over.

Sweeter with the Heat

I stand, tiptoe, at the kitchen stove. In my hand, a long wooden spoon stirring constantly as I watch mashed strawberries turn a deep hue of ruby-jewel red. My biggest stock pot simmers, then boils – a solid, rolling boil for one minute. The transformation is complete. Strawberries turned even sweeter with the heat (and a hefty amount of sugar). Strawberry jam.

In the aftermath of this heat, I enjoy and share a sweet, delicious treat.

Fiddling with the Temperature

I stand, visiting with my mom at the stove. She lays out bacon to crisp in the oven and cracks eggs to scramble. Morning light streams through Mom and Dad’s kitchen window. Coffee steams in my mug. Pancakes have been requested for breakfast and I happily oblige the spring break request. Like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, pancakes are a staple food item at our house and have been since my boy was old enough to request such things.

Mom’s griddle heats differently than mine, though. I pour the first attempt. The heat isn’t quite hot enough; the batter just sits and I end up scraping it off, uncooked and ruined. I turn up the heat. Wait and pour the second attempt. Bubbles are immediately visible, as is the smell of burnt pancakes. I scrape off the burned pancake ruins and turn down the heat. More waiting.

Finally, I’ve found the temperature we need. The batter steams just slightly as it hits the pan, bubbles pop along the edges, chocolate chips are sprinkled in and with a flip the golden-brown pancakes are ready to be devoured.

In the aftermath of this heat, I wonder about different temperatures for different circumstances.

What’s the “Just Right” Temperature?

It seems I’m more like the pot of milky, cheesy goo these days. Only a moment too long of extra heat sends me boiling over, spreading my mess everywhere.

Sighs escape my lips more often.

Angry retorts flash through my mind.

But, my heart longs to be more like the pot of strawberry jam – sweeter after the heat.

I wonder if some of you may find yourself in the same state of mind? Our hearts sit at simmer already. The heat turned high for close to a year: quarantines and pandemics and schooling changes and family dynamic changes. With even a small uptick in temperature we boil over onto those around us.

Like the morning I stood making pancakes and fiddling with the temperature, I wonder how I can find the just right temperature for our lives now. To assume it would be the same as it was before would be wrong; just as assuming I can recreate our pre-pandemic lives and our rhythms as before with a perfect fit. I can acknowledge this year has been hard. I’m not in the same place physically or mentally or spiritually as I was a year ago. I’ve grown in some ways and lost ground in others. This is true for those around me, too.

Perhaps, none of us have quite found the perfect temperature yet in this season. But I’ll keep watching my emotions and adjusting the temperature until I do. And, when life IS boiling, I’ll do my best to consciously remember to turn the heat down after just a minute – and hopefully end with sweetness to share.

A Prayer for Winter Solstice

December 21, 2020 by Bethany McMillon

Restored

Years ago, a rusty red chest of drawers caught my eye amidst the clothes, small kitchen appliances and knick-knacks. I opened the drawers to find real, unpainted wood – dusty and unused. In an age before YouTube and 24-hour access to home improvement shows, this well-past-prime furniture piece needed a creative hand. With my Dad’s guidance, I took on the challenge of learning to strip the paint, sand it smooth and stain it a neutral color.

In the small garage of my little house, in the middle of the Texas summer heat, I worked. The simple, sealed bare wood – with funky blue and yellow knobs – soon stood, restored, in the corner of the bedroom.

Resurrected

In the darkened sanctuary my heart beat along with the deep rhythm of the drums. Without warning, tears brimmed. The lyrics washed over my soul and swept me back to my Gram’s small church. Suddenly, I sang beside her with the simple accompaniment of piano and organ. Then, in the present moment again, the lyrics the same, the notes different, the worship timeless – an old hymn resurrected.

Revived

Just a few chapters in, my brow furrows. The characters begin to feel almost familiar, but I can’t quite place them. A prince with a dark past requires a girl to save him from who he’s become. Slightly similar, yet deeply different. Now I see, it’s a tale as old as time, with twists, turns and a new setting. My body settles in for the recognizable storyline, something classic revived.

Solstice

The chill in the air whips through our jackets. In our new, nightly walk rhythm, my love and I spot a smattering of leaves clinging desperately to the otherwise bare twigs in a tree just off our path. Their brilliant orange glows in the streetlight, a remnant of autumn refusing to fall.

We stand at the official end of fall and approach Winter Solstice with trepidation. Darkness surrounds us. We groan under the weight of the darkest day of the year.

And yet, the light begins to expand tomorrow. Solstice’s long shadow signals the final stretch of days in which the darkness expands its grip on light. It feels right, in this season, to start anew. To move toward light. The Hope of Advent has arrived. The calendar page will be flipped to a new year.

I will allow the Light to expand within me, too, to restore, resurrect and revive.

We groan under the weight of the darkest day of the year.

A Prayer for Winter Solstice

Lord of the Heavens and the Earth,

You set the Heavens in place and created the Earth.

You mark the moon, the sun and the seasons.

You promise to make all things new. Revive us.

We sing of a weary world rejoicing. We are the burdened and tired. Fill our hearts with the thrill of hope that echoes in our songs.

During the day when darkness encroaches longest on the light, remind our souls You are LIGHT.

Your hope is here, with us.

-Amen

Firefly Friendships

October 9, 2020 by Bethany McMillon

In the twilight

I sat, hunched on the small concrete step which provided the only seating in the backyard of the rental house we occupied this summer. An acorn fell at my feet; the squirrel above chattered as if my presence annoyed him as much as his acorn throwing annoyed me. Crickets chirped in the background as twilight fell. The coming darkness blanketed my heart as I silently released the tears that had brimmed all day.

We were in the midst of a roller-coaster, choosing to move in the midst of the pandemic felt like the next right step for our family, but the road had proven to be longer and more difficult than we thought.

I raised my head, wiped the tears away, and watched our dogs wrestling in the corner of the yard. Then, I saw it. Only as brief as a blink, I thought I’d imagined it. But there it was again. And again. And again. The flash of fireflies. Like a personal and intimate light show, they flashed. I held my breath, willing them to continue their show. The unexpected light in the darkness flickered hope into my heart. God is here.

Before dawn

I flipped through the stack of papers piled on my desk, a deep sign escaped my lips. I’d just seen the note I’d written with the information I needed, but somehow it had disappeared. As small as it was, the lost paper seemed to be the final break in the fraying string with which I was holding myself together. The walls of our makeshift office/storage closet began to close in on me. I closed my computer with slightly too much force and leaned back. I covered my face with my hands. Frustration closed in around me.

The time I’d set aside early this morning, before the hall filled with students and while my boy practiced football, was slipping away and the day’s to-do list was long. The struggle of the season sat heavy on my shoulders. I slipped my mask back on, headed down the hall to refill my coffee mug and whispered a prayer inviting God into this day.

My phone dinged with a kind message from a friend. “You’ve been on my mind and I’m thinking of and praying for you this morning.”
A firefly in the darkness. A friend in the struggle. God is here.

In the sunset

I finished the dishes as the sun began to set and checked with my guys, would either like to join me on a walk this evening? They’d made plans to start a movie. I headed out the door solo.

Closing the door behind me, the beauty of the sky stopped my steps. I stood on the concrete step, just outside our front door. The blues in the sky were quickly darkening. The oranges and purples of the sunset created backlight for the trees. My steps fell into rhythm and, as is my custom when I’m walking alone, my thoughts shifted to prayers. Thankfulness.

Our season of waiting has come to a close; we are in our new house. A project is complete and released into the world. Our lives are settling into routine. In the midst of continued pandemic, of unrest, of sadness, the seasons continue to pass. I round the corner of the path and freeze. Could it be? This late in the season? Yet, there it was again. The unmistakable flash of fireflies against the shadowy foliage lining the path. Unmistakable peace fills my soul. God is here.

Fireflies are funny creatures, aren’t they, flashing lights from their hineys at twilight? Without the work they do in darkness, though they’d simply be plain little bugs. The darkness surrounding them highlights the greatness God created within them. Thank you, to the fireflies in my life, who flash their light in the midst of my darkness. You consistently light my path and remind me I have Light within me to.

“Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.”
Psalm 139:12

Where are you seeing flashes of Light these days?

May Mercy and Grace Fall Upon You – Bethany

Dodgeball Friendships

August 5, 2020 by Bethany McMillon

Seared into my memory is primary blue carpet and fire-engine red walls screaming excitement almost as loud as the pulsing music that surrounds us. I stand, huddled behind the climbing wall, with a small group of mama-friends. We did our best to shout hellos and catch up with each other and our kids by both reading lips and hand signals. Conversation proved difficult over the noise, so we soon settled on watching our boys play through the window.

Their sweaty, gleeful faces clued us in to the level of fun just inside the door. Balls flew through the air, bodies jostled to pick them up and hurl them at each other. Dodgeball. I shook my head, equal parts unable to understand how this could be fun and appreciative of my growing-too-fast-boy’s pure enjoyment.

Admittedly, I haven’t played the game myself, or even wanted to play. I can’t trust my eye-hand coordination enough to catch several balls at a time as they are hurdled at me, much less have good enough aim to strike an opponent.

Back in November, in the midst of a short series of posts about gratitude, I shared my thankfulness for all the balls I juggle – even when I drop them. (A Glimpse of Gratitude, From a Working Mom) But lately, I feel less like I’m juggling. Instead it’s more like I’ve been thrown into a perpetual game of dodgeball in which I’m not allowed to be “out.” Just when I think I’ve caught a ball and an opponent has to go out, I’m hit with a screaming-fast ball to a blind-spot.

Are you juggling or dodging balls this season?

Recently, as our family tackled an unexpected challenge, it felt much like I’d imagine an unexpected dodgeball to the gut might feel. I groaned. I hung my head and crawled over to the sidelines. In my mind, I sat, knees to chest, sucking air.

But I couldn’t shake the memory from my mind of my boy’s face as he played dodgeball. Complete joy. Laughter. Immersed in the moment. Anticipating.

Soon, though, I wasn’t sitting alone on the sidelines. If it had been a game, my friends would have called time out and jogged over to grab me by both hands, help me to my feet and hand me a Gatorade. Instead, in real life they helped our family get through this challenge in a tangible way.

As we worked side by side, my tears turned to laughter at our circumstance and it occurred to me, perhaps it wasn’t the game that brought so much joy to my boy. Maybe, it was the friendships and working together. In this season, it is almost guaranteed changes and hard things will hit. Let’s commit to helping each other up and handing out sports drinks (or Diet Dr Pepper) when we notice others are winded and falling to the sidelines.

Jesus tell us, “In this world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world!”
-John 16

Friends, Jesus has already won this dodgeball game! He’s ready to high-five us for a game well-played and he’s given us a team to help us up – and to offer help – when we’ve been hit.

Hugs and blessings – Bethany

Brain Bunnies & Book Reviews

July 5, 2020 by Bethany McMillon

Just before Spring Break, I lamented to a friend, “All school breaks should be three weeks long! We need one week to relax and get ready, one week to travel and visit family, and one week to recover and get ready to go back.” At the time, it made perfect sense to me. I was always wishing for a little longer to be home! *was*

Then, the pandemic hit. Extra time at home was the primary rule of the long season for many of us. I mistakenly assumed I’d have tons of extra time to read. I was very wrong! Instead, as my friend Lindsey wrote in The Drafting Desk Issue 043, “My brain seems to be working in the same manner that the bunnies I keep catching in my backyard are running: hop, hop, freeze! Switch directions, hop, hop, freeze, run!”

Here are the books I did manage to finish this season. I hope you see something that catches your eye (and that you can find a quiet few minutes to relax your mind and body enough to read)!

Through Rosalie Colored Glasses

Through Rosalie Colored Glasses, Carrie J – In April, I sat on my porch one afternoon with my feet up and an iced coffee by my side. I finished this book in one sitting. Then, wrote quickly on Instagram: “This sweet and whimsical book acted as a balm to my soul this afternoon. The words rang rich and kind. The illustrations are tender and beautiful (and by one of my oldest friends, @kamdonkreations ). If you’re feeling smothered by the dark gray of quarantine life, this bright novella is perfect for you. All my friends and family with girls – add this to your cart today.” Even the cover of this book makes me smile. Later that afternoon, I bought one for our school library AND one for my nieces AND planned a special event book club for the Lower School girls at my school; I enjoyed it that much!

On Being A Writer

On Being A Writer, Kroeker and Craig – It was my 2020 goal to read a book about the writing craft each quarter of the year. I was running behind on the goal, so didn’t finish this one until spring. Kroeker and Craig fill the pages of this book with stories and inspiration. I set the book down having gained understanding of a few skills and feeling like a “real writer.” If you are entertaining the idea of being a writer, consider this book. Also, Ann Kroeker is a writing coach and member of hope*writers. About the same time I started this book (way back in January), she responded to one of my Instagram posts and I had a bit of a God-wink moment.

Caterpillar Summer

Caterpillar Summer, Gillian McDunn – McDunn weaves a heart-warming story of a rising 6^th grade girl, Cat, and her younger brother, Chicken. Cat’s mother, a children’s book writer and illustrator, relies heavily on her. Cat works hard to care well for her brother and worries about the next school year in which the two kids will be at different schools. As summer approaches, Cat looks forward to visiting her best friend who has moved away. But when plans are changed, she instead faces a summer with grandparents she doesn’t know in an unfamiliar place. This book speaks deeply to family relationships and the expectations kids put on themselves.

Sweep: The Story of a Girl and her Monster

Sweep: The Story of a Girl and her Monster, Jonathan Auxier – Friends, this book is a must read. It is a story of childhood strength and survival. Though it is set in London over a century ago, it is surprisingly relevant and timely. Nan, a child chimneysweep, narrowly escapes death, runs away, and then Auxier begins weaving a beautiful fantasy tale of survival and friendship. I cheered Nan on, gasped at her predicaments and cried along with her. This book deserves every honor of its Bluebonnet nomination and I find myself recommending it over and over.

Break Bread Together

Break Bread Together: Finding True Friendship at the Last Supper – I was honored to serve on the launch team for author, Jess Herberger. Herberger connects Jesus’ love for and friendship with his disciples in a poignant and timely way. As someone who grew up in church, I’ve read the stories of Jesus’ interactions with his disciples in their callings and the Last Supper countless times, but never through the lens of friendship. This book encourages us to invite people into friendship with us and to love deeply – all through the reflecting Jesus to those around us. A passion for deep friendship was rekindled in my soul. As we all come out of a time of greater social isolation, this book helps us remember the importance of friendships.

I’m currently in the midst of Echo, by Pam Munoz Ryan. I can’t wait to write about it in my summer book wrap-up!

What about you, friends? What are you reading?

Hugs, Blessings and Happy Reading – Bethany

* None of the links above are affiliate links. They are included simply to make the books easier for you to find. 🙂 *

Things I Learned This Spring-ish, 2020

July 3, 2020 by Bethany McMillon

Like the rest of the world, or at least America, spring threw me into a new world. There was heartache and memes, collective grief and overall a sense of worry and unsettle. Here are a few words about the big things I’ve learned this season and the random ones, too.

Pandemic

It’s not just a movie plot or a hypothetical fear. It’s a reality and includes hoarding toilet paper, staying at home, social distancing, and wearing masks. Over Spring Break, I spent literally hours–like a billion other people – looking for a package or toilet paper. I was not because I felt the compulsion to buy it, but because we were legitimately out! I was thankful to find some at Walgreens – which, in this case, truly was “the corner of happy and healthy.”

Digital Learning

It is not home school. It definitely is not at-school, either, and is hard on everyone. But my strength finder “input, developer and arranger” self was pumped. And I dug learning all the new tools and the chance to work with so many people. On the flip side, my “empathy and harmony” heart was working triple time, too.

Racial injustice

There are no words I could write into a paragraph or social media post that could adequately say what I want to convey. So. I’ll simply say, “I’m listening and learning.”

Editors, Beware!

I can’t spell Deuteronomy… ever. Like the word ‘guard,’ it looks wrong to me every time. Add that to the consistent confusion of the peek/peak/pique homonym and my constant misuse of dashes and ellipses, proofreaders and editors, beware!

Skipping!

In the spring, I wrote a list of ways to celebrate. While watching one of my nieces, I realized I’d regrettably left off skipping! If you need a boost, I HIGHLY recommend it!

Life Through a Screen

Experiencing life through a screen, as we have the last few months, we can often pause, rewind, skip or even watch something in double speed to get the idea without listening closely to each second of the words. While this is great for gathering information quickly or skipping commercials, I’ve found myself occasionally listening to something live and wishing I could skip ahead or listen in 2x speed. I’m sure there is a lesson in this observation, I’m just not sure what it is yet.

Brains

My brain hasn’t collected information in the same way during this season. I often have to read and reread to work through paragraphs in books. I listen to podcasts and then forget what was said. Even my favorite light-hearted reading, “Real Simple” magazine and fairy-tale retellings have sat, unopened, on the end table. It seems I’m still in the midst of (maybe someday will recover from) the data and emotional overwhelm of this year so far.

Matthew 10:31

The words swirl through my heart and mind often these days. One afternoon, as I was particularly anxious, I remembered Jesus’ words in Matthew 10 in which He is sending out his disciples to declare the kingdom of heaven is near. He encourages them to not be afraid for several reasons, then just after reminding the disciples even the sparrows don’t fall outside the Father’s care, He says, “You are worth more than many sparrows.” We ALL are.

Hugs and blessings, Bethany

Photo by Guido Jansen on Unsplash